Merlin hadn't woken him up that morning.

It took Arthur all of five seconds to remember why.

"Gaius," he reached the man's chambers the moment he escaped the clutches of that awful excuse for a manservant – Gerry? George? – It didn't matter. "Have you heard any news of Merlin?"

"None, sire," Gaius replied, shaking his head disappointedly, worry present on his wrinkled features. "I will tell you the moment I hear anything, however. I'm just as worried about him as you are."

"I'm not worried about him," Arthur snorted, but even he could see through the blatant lie. Merlin was all he could think about, his face, his voice, how he had looked when the rocks had begun to fall –

No.

He wouldn't let himself dwell on that.

"I'm just worried about how far behind on his chores he'll get," Arthur finished his fib up weakly, with not nearly as much conviction he could have put into it. Well, on any other day but today, at least.

Merlin was never gone. Merlin never left him for more than a day or two. He would come back.

He had to come back.

Arthur gave Gaius what he hoped was a reassuring smile before departing, an idea blossoming in his mind.

Merlin was rather inadequate on the best of days, he could have easily lost his way back – it would take him days to return to Camelot, especially without a horse. But if Arthur went to search for him…

He could get Merlin back. Soon – today, even.

It should worry Arthur how dependent he was on a simple servant, but Merlin had always been more than that. They both knew it, even if it never went acknowledged. Merlin was more important to him than –

Well.

Anyone.

The thought shook Arthur to his core, but he couldn't focus on that right now. He had to saddle up his horse so that he could find Merlin, they could return to normal, and Arthur never, ever had to tell him how desperate he was for his manservant's –

Best friend's return.

"You can't," Gwen followed him out of the castle, hitching up her skirts as she tried to keep up with his fast, brisk pace. He loved Gwen, he truly did, but how could she want him to stay at home when Merlin was so clearly in danger?

"You're not going to change my mind," Arthur gave her a sideways glance as he pulled on his riding gloves. The courtyard wasn't as full as it was on a usual day, but it was still bustling with peasants and traders that could overhear them, so he lowered his voice. "I have to go."

"At least – please do one thing for me. Don't go alone," she gazed up at him, concern evident in her wide, brown eyes. Arthur put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"He won't be," a voice from the courtyard rang out and Arthur turned to find Gwaine, already atop his horse, smiling gently down at them. Well, gently down at Gwen. To Arthur, he just cocked an eyebrow, but Arthur knew what was meant by it.

"Now you've condemned me to a day of mindless chatter," Arthur teased Gwen lightly before turning serious. "I'll come back."

"I-I'm afraid that won't be necessary, my lord."

Agravaine had approached the trio without Arthur's knowledge – a true rarity, for Arthur prided himself on his detection skills. But he wasn't too concerned with his lapse in concentration, for the expression on his uncle's face wasn't one that Arthur was accustomed to. It was drawn, furrowed – scared.

"Uncle," Arthur moved away from Gwen, who was biting her lip, eyes darting back and forth between Arthur and Agravaine, and Gwaine, who dismounted his horse with a worried expression. He clasped his advisor's hand in a show of respect. "What do you mean?"

"One of the patrols we sent out…" Agravaine hesitated. "Well, my lord, it appears that Merlin has been found."

Joy – pure, unaltered joy – thrummed through Arthur's veins as he let out a heaving sigh of relief. "That's wonderful! Where is he?"

It was only then that he strung the clues together – Agravaine's expression, apparent fear, lack of a reaction from his friends –

His body turned to ice.

"Take me to him," he commanded. He wasn't sure it came out like a king instructing his subjects. It sounded more like a broken plea.

Arthur was led up to his own chambers. He wouldn't read into the thought – that all of his subjects, his staff, his knights, knew that Merlin wasn't just a servant, that Arthur would need something more personal from him, more human – because he was numb. Every inch of him. He was hardly aware of his own footsteps.

The numbness came to a screeching halt when the group of knights moved aside to reveal a body lying spread eagle on the floor.

Holding in a choked sob, Arthur dropped to the floor. This wasn't happening. Oh, God, please. This wasn't happening.

Merlin was pale, even paler than he had been in life. His body was sprawled not unlike it was when he was asleep, and for one moment, just one moment, Arthur could pretend that sleeping was all this was, that Merlin would wake up and everything would return to the way it was, the way it should be.

But his eyes were glassy and open. They had been crystal and dancing, but now they were cold and without light. His brown jacket that he wore every day without fail was dirty and wretched, his neckerchief askew. His mouth was open just slightly, as if he had been surprised when the final impact of death hit him.

Arthur reached out without realizing he was doing so, putting his hand on Merlin's chest, where his heart was.

There was no beat.

His last hopes drained away.

"What – what caused this?" Arthur whispered harshly, voice grating on his ears. He had to be strong; he couldn't let his people see him like this, so weak, so distraught over a single death. Hearing Gwen softly crying behind him, he knew that he had to remain steadfast for her sake as well as the rest of the knights, the people who cared for Merlin so much.

"There's no noticeable cause of death, my lord," Leon croaked from behind him. Arthur hadn't even taken notice that he was in the room. He could hear the grief filtering through his normally calm and serene voice, however. "We – we assume sorcery. Morgana."

Hot tears were running down Arthur's cheeks, but he kept his head facing downward so as not to be seen. He thought about asking something, anything else, about what was being done, about his they could fix this….But he couldn't.

"Leave us," he shook his head, pressing his hand down harder against Merlin's chest. "Please, just leave….me."

He could hear the figures behind him shuffle out, one by one, recognizing the order for what it was. A few footsteps, however, became louder and more prominent and there were suddenly two figures at his head.

Gwen knelt down next to him, tears glistening on her cheeks. She leaned forward and pressed a hand against Merlin's forehead – she looked back at Arthur, opening her mouth as if to speak, but only made a strangled noise before standing once more and bolting from the room, sobs wracking through her body.

Arthur could have followed her, probably should have followed her – but he couldn't.

Gwaine was the other who had stayed. He walked around Arthur instead of kneeling next to him, however, walked to the opposite side of the body to lay a hand on Merlin's hair. He looked up, tears bright in his ever-laughing eyes that weren't laughing anymore.

"We all loved him, too, you know," he said gruffly, tears making his voice thick. "I'm going to go tell Gaius what happened."

"Leave," Arthur said, harsher than he would have liked. Gwaine didn't deserve that. He was mourning, too. "Please."

Within moments, Arthur and Merlin were alone.

Arthur broke.

He let out a wretched sob, then another and another, and moved his hand off of Merlin's chest in order to cup his cheek, cold on his skin. His other arm reached around under Merlin's back, forcing the body into a sitting position. He pulled Merlin close to him, as close as he could; he buried his face in the red neckerchief that had adorned Merlin's neck for as long as he could remember.

"Merlin," he whispered, softly and reverently, like a prayer, as if it would bring the dead back to life. "Merlin, please. Please. You can't – you can't leave me, not like this."

He shuddered, running his hands down Merlin's back, through his hair, everywhere he could touch – there were still traces of warmth in some places, he could still smell pine and potions and something utterly unnamable that he always associated with Merlin. He held on tighter, because he knew it wouldn't last long.

Within moments, Merlin just smelled like him.

"My lord –"

"Get out," Arthur muttered, aware he sounded like a petulant child and no longer could bring himself to care. "Get out, get out, get out."

"Arthur," the voice said again, and it was only then that Arthur realized it was Gaius who had entered the room. Arthur hugged Merlin's body closer to him before loosening his grip just slightly, just enough.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I know. You can – you can stay –"

"I won't stay," Gaius said softly from behind him. Arthur didn't turn around, he couldn't look away from Merlin, but he still made a noise of surprise. "Guinevere, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan…They have all made a home in my chambers to grieve together. I must return to them and offer them what little comfort I can. I only came to…to see for myself."

They were quiet for a moment before Gaius spoke again. "May I…may I say goodbye, my lord?"

"Of – of course," Arthur shook his head, marveling at Gaius's asking permission. "He was…I know he was like a son to you."

Gaius knelt down next to Arthur, only struggling slightly despite his advanced age. Arthur started to let go of Merlin's body, despite the great misgivings he had about that, but Gaius stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He put the other on the top of Merlin's hand, and murmured a few words in a language Arthur didn't understand, tears staining his cheeks.

The words sounded like a blessing.

Gaius departed, and Arthur couldn't help but hold Merlin even more tightly.

"You can't be dead," Arthur whispered in his ear. "You can't be. You'd never leave me, Merlin, never. Please, please don't leave me. I can't do this without you. I don't want to be alone."

He stroked Merlin's hair, repeating the words onto his skin.

"My lord, you need to eat –"

"You should really get some fresh air, sire –"

"Won't you let someone bury him –"

"I know it hurts, Arthur, but in the end, he was just a servant, just a subject –"

"They don't understand," Arthur said to Merlin as he cradled him still, hours later. "None of them ever did. You're – goddammit, Merlin, just stop being dead. Just stop being dead and we'll talk about it. Everything. I just need you to be alive."

Like the last thousand times he had begged, pleaded, petitioned, Merlin remained still. His eyes were still open, wide and glassy, because Arthur didn't have the heart, or maybe the courage to shut them or the final time.

He couldn't let go – as illustrated by his refusal to let anyone take Merlin's body from his room, or even to stop touching his body.

If his hands fell away, it would mean Merlin was well and truly gone from him.

When day turned to night and only the candles were left burning, when the castle knew better than to try to convince Arthur that leaving Merlin was the best idea, Arthur picked Merlin's limp body up off the floor. Heavier than he expected, but probably lighter in death than it had been in life, he carried him over to his bed, slowly and gently lowering him onto it before crawling in next to him to wrap his arms securely around Merlin's chest.

"I'm sorry," he told him, voice hoarse and hands shaking. "I'm sorry I never – I never told you. I never told you how much you meant to me. You were always there for me, always, and I…I treated you horribly. I wish I could make it up to you."

He paused.

"I love you," Arthur sobbed, tears returning to prickle at his eyes before cascading down and landing in Merlin's hair. "I love you. Don't be dead. Please don't be dead."

He hesitated, as if waiting for a response, but Merlin was dead and cold and couldn't.